Tangents
by et cetera et cetera
Summary: They were tangents in this world, in their world, touching but never, ever crossing. SpikexFaye, Oneshot.


**Disclaimer : **I don't own Cowboy Bebop.

* * *

**Tangents **

His life was just a cryptic collection of dreams, and she was just a zombie among the rest in them, hovering there, sometimes too close to see the edges clearly, and sometimes too distant to see. She was like dust; invisible but in the right light, all angles were shone in all her glory. Amid the different people and all the dream schemes he would have to squint to see her properly, but she was there. As small as a pinprick, but as big as an explosion when carefully examined.

Her life was a fairytale. A fabrication that she kept adding to, day by day. But among all the lies and stories he was there, a worn book hidden in the shelves, its value and worth diminishing each day, but once opened all the dramatic tales were there. The ink may have been faded so that she spent more time discerning a's from o's, but the chronicle was always the same that she didn't even have to read the words; she had it memorized, but acted as if she didn't know, just because the thought of knowing his book front and back caused too much distress on her mind. Once in a while, when her heart is too heavy for her lungs, one sentence from the book will ease the weight, the agony pulled out with heartstrings.

They were tangents in this world, in _their_ world, touching but never, ever crossing. She was a speckle of dust and the vacuum of every other dream had swept her from his mind. Her library was starting to fill up, more and more books burrowing him deeper into the crease of her heart. But at moments, one look, one simple memory and they were at that cross, but neither could ever take the step and intersect the other.

In reality, it's better to be tangents than intersects. Facing each other at the cross makes her easier to distinguish and him a little better to read. For them, almost is always better than there.

* * *

Faye shut her eyes and pursed her lips in thought. The sun was too hot to almost give her a heatstroke, and the briny smell of the sea was making her sick. There were too many sounds everywhere, but out here on the deck of the ship was better than inside the dark hallways. It was silent out here whereas in there it was too loud; the echo of her breathing could make her deaf. 

The day had started out quiet, simple and alluring, giving her a sentiment of freshness that basic sanitary habits could not satisfy. Her mood had been light, friendly, and comrade-like to her fellow living mates. Over tripped feet and scalding tongues she kept from ruining her day, only because she knew that sooner or later he would have done the deed for her.

Today, twenty minutes ago, he had done it by bookwork. The sneaky bastard had been calculating his movements having watched her for the past month and how she had been behaving; he knew how to artfully avoid her. She caught him turning the other way when she walked into the hanger and realized that he had been too careful and too easy on the eyes whilst this had been going on, under and over her nose for the past four and a half weeks.

And it pissed her off.

It's always _her_ duty to be the one to annoy, not to be annoyed. He was now playing her game but he was winning by cheating. She didn't know that it was possible to annoy someone without being seen.

If she knew how to play her own game, she would have gladly put on her poker face and dealt out the cards herself. But alas, Spike was suddenly making the rules and Faye was never too keen on following orders. He could continue on playing this game of solitaire, but there's no way that she's going to allow him to win her over. If he's going to play her game, she's going to make sure he goes by _her_ rules.

The sun was preventing her from further thought so she just stayed leaning against the rail of the deck, trying to get comfortable against the rocking of the big, old fishing ship. Despite it being sunny and breezy, it had actually been a nice day. You could never really get nice days on Mars.

Faye looked at the water and frowned at the murkiness. In space the water's never clear. Just a clouded pool of dark and gloom, just like this stupid universe. The surface is the only place that's lighted, illuminating things that only stay for a moment then drift away underneath the shadows of the sea.

It would only be too true to say that she could relate. Her life right now isn't anything she wants it to be, and she remembers with bitter remorse a once upon a time where the waters and her life were clear. Her heart is hidden beneath the murk of her cynicism and it would take a lot of light to see one corner.

But sometimes, the cloudiness in her thins out and her heart is shown a lot more than usual. And those sometimes usually occur when a certain someone is near.

Faye sighed and wished she had her cigarette pack with her. Earlier, when she had caught Spike, she refrained from going after him and went ahead on her trek, unprepared for the sun and her thoughts.

Footsteps towards her direction were heard, but Faye refused to turn around. A few moments passed and soon the scent of the sea was mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke and the vague smell of a man.

Green and yellow were in her peripheral vision, and Faye noted that he was too close for comfort. She didn't bother telling him though and he didn't bother moving over. Instead, he rested his arm on the railing and with the confined space between them, their elbows met.

His other arm was moving and before she knew it, a cigarette was pushed into her face. Faye took it, not because she was forgiving him for playing that game of his, but because she was having a nicotine itch and hey, if you give a dog a bone you know what happens.

She at least had her lighter with her and lit her cigarette. It was the least she could do, since she allowed Spike to be this close to her.

Because once in a while, it's good to know that the sun could shine through to her heart, outlining the edge with somewhat of a hope.

And also because she allowed herself to play fair and gave Spike a head start.

* * *

Under certain circumstances, being at an intersection forces the two at the meet to take those little steps towards each other. Whether it is because of the swirling of other dust particles, or other books pushing, they're steps closer to each other. 

Tangents never know each other. They get too close that they're almost intersecting, but there's always a restraint. There's always either something in between or they never allow themselves to take a step forward. Whatever the reason, there's no junction between the two.

On certain days his book is open. The telltale tragedy of his life is there in pages, and she has no trouble reading the faded words.

On certain days his dreams are light and she's no longer pushed aside. There's light in the shadows and she's floating around in his eyes all curves and edges unwilling to drift away.

Like tangents, on certain days she finds a way to drift into an open and blank page, creating a new chapter in his narrative.


End file.
